


Ablaze

by TumbleSnout



Series: Requests [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blindfolds, Blood and Injury, Bounty Hunters, DUTCH WAS NOT ALWAYS SHITTY, Fire, Gen, Hurt Dutch, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Not Beta Read, Pre-Canon, Rescue, Rescue Missions, TB CAN SUCK MY DICK, We Die Like Men, Whump, dutch whump, hosea deserved better, not beta read we die like men, pre-game, smoke inhalation, why the fuck does guarma exist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17804687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TumbleSnout/pseuds/TumbleSnout
Summary: A trade with Gunderlinde (PatchWorkPoet).Dutch gets nabbed by some bounty hunters and gets his ass handed to him, leaving Hosea and Arthur to come rescue his ass before he gets brought to the law or killed.Things don't go as smoothly as they would have liked.On hiatus.





	1. Ablaze (1)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gunderlinde (patchworkpoet)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchworkpoet/gifts).



> A whump trade with Gunderlinde, or PatchworkPoet!
> 
> The prompt was to have Arthur rescue Dutch for once, instead of the usual Dutch rescuing Arthur when he inevitably gets in over his head and does something stupid.
> 
> It’s a little short for now, but i’m working on it, I sweaR- it’ll be two or three chapters, but i’ll list it as two. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whump trade with Gunderlinde, or PatchworkPoet!
> 
> The prompt was to have Arthur rescue Dutch for once, instead of the usual Dutch rescuing Arthur when he inevitably gets in over his head and does something stupid.
> 
> It’s a little short for now, but i’m working on it, I sweaR- it’ll be two or three chapters, but i’ll list it as two. Enjoy!

 The first thing Dutch Van Der Linde registered upon regaining consciousness was  _pain_ _._

And, oh boy, was he in pain. He hissed against the waves of it radiating from his calf, attempting to check the offending limb when he realized that he couldn’t  _see._ As a matter of fact, he could hardly move.

The realization dawned on him as he strained against ropes around his ankles and chest, twisting his hands which were pinned behind him, tied to the back of a chair.

Memories of the ordeal came flooding back. Encountering a group of men who had asked him directly about whether he was looking for work. Specifically, they needed another gun on a job stealing horses. The leader supposedly falling for his “Aiden O’Malley” disguise.

The back of his head exploding into pain.

Now, normally, Dutch would keep a level head and attempt to sweet talk his way out of a situation like this.

But when he was left blindfolded?

_Hell. No._

Dutch depended on observation and body language. Non verbal cues.

Being left not only defenseless but in the dark was utterly  _terrifying._

He started to struggle, yanking at the restraints and gritting his teeth, feeling a bit of satisfaction when he heard the chair scoot across the floor.

A voice made his blood run cold.

“Mister Van Der Linde, how kind a’ya t’join us.”

”Who the  _hell_ are you?” Dutch sneered, all charisma gone in favor of fear, masked by malice and venom.

”A man about to be  _ten thousand_ richer.”

”Ten thousand dollars won’t do you much good when you’re-“

He grunted, straining and yanking again before relaxing, panting.

“In the ground, sir. May I remind you that my  _bounty_ is only this high because of the men I lead? This is a stupid decision, friend-“

Dutch hadn’t even noticed him moving until something was being shoved into his mouth.

”Oh, Hush. I ain’t your friend.”

 The gag was wound tightly around his head, leaving him both mute and blind.

Which, for someone like Dutch, really left him up shit creek without a damn paddle.

”Y’know, I get a big payout wether you’re dead or alive, but it’s so much more if the ‘good folk’ of New Austin get to see you swing after what your gang pulled.”

Dutch tensed.

”’Course, it don’t matter much to them if I rough ya up a little first, do it?”

 Not like he could say anything, but before he could reply, a fist collided with his gut, eliciting a muffled shout of pain.

it was going to be a long night.


	2. Ablaze (2)

“You sure this is the place, Hosea?”

“Oh, I’m positive. They wouldn’t have this much security without a massive bounty. It’s Dutch, alright.”

Hosea peered through the binoculars, surveying the place. Four or five making rounds around the homestead, two standing just outside the barn, and an unknown number of others inside the buildings. He assumed there was at least one in the barn, because that was most likely where Dutch was being held. He put them down with a sigh, turning to ask for Arthur’s input when he noticed him fiddling with his gun nervously.

Arthur didn’t seem to be paying attention as much as he clearly wanted to. Something was on his mind, and Hosea understood exactly what he was anxious about. He feared the same thing.

Hosea placed a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to look up.

“Hey, he’ll be alright. They wouldn’t need so many people to guard a body. I just need you to follow my lead, alright?”

Arthur, meeting his sympathetic expression, sighed and nodded, straightening.

“So, how’re we pullin’ this off?”

* * *

 Dutch didn’t think he’d ever feared for his own life this much before.

Sightless and wordless, he was entirely defenseless in regards to his charisma. A gun would have been nice, but he’d take his voice and sight over a weapon any day.

He was famous for sweet talking because  _he knew how to read people._

And it was awfully hard to read when you couldn’t see the damn page.

Body language, facial expressions, clothing, everything counted. He could see when he’d struck a nerve or made someone sympathetic to his situation. He could tell when someone was afraid. He could tell a lot about a person and their personal life simply by looking at their clothes. Maybe the bounty hunter was in it for the money. Maybe he had debts to pay off. Maybe he had a bounty of his own he wanted to get rid of. A wife and kids to feed, there were a lot of factors that could go into why he was risking his life for this that Dutch could exploit at a glance.

Not while blindfolded and gagged.

And, besides trying to charm his way out of a bad spot, when he could see he could at the _very least_ brace for an incoming punch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little longer in word count, but not exactly any action yet. I’ll try to get that one up tonight as well!


	3. Ablaze (3)

A blow to his solar plexus left him gasping and heaving, damn near vomiting into the gag, which wouldn’t have ended well for him. Dutch slumped forward in defeat, praying that the bounty hunter would just  _fuck off_ for a few minutes and give him time to breathe.

It had been viscous cycle for hours. Or maybe it had been minutes. Or days. He couldn’t tell, all he knew was that he wanted it to stop. Over and over again, he would get a punch or two to his gut, hands around his throat until he stopped fighting, a twist to the knife in his calf, for what felt like eons. 

A second punch left him breathless and unable to hold back a cry of pain, struggling to double over his stomach to protect it, despite knowing there were ropes pinning his chest to the chair. The blood roared in his ears as he hung his head, panting.

Dutch had done a lot of... dishonorable things in his life, especially when he was much younger, but he’d never beat up a poor bastard for amusement.

It had been a few minutes before he realized that another beating hadn’t yet arrived. He slumped back in relief, head resting on his chest.

He was so exhausted and out of it that he didn’t even notice the sound of gunfire outside.

 

* * *

Arthur was about to slaughter and eviscerate every last son of a bitch that had dared to cross them or lay a hand on Dutch.

He ducked behind a barrel, quickly reloading his revolver and taking a moment to check on Hosea, who was firing on one of the bounty hunters with a Springfield rifle. The man dropped dead and they both darted out. 

They were finishing off the last of the stragglers when a stray bullet hit a lantern hanging from the side of the barn, which fell into a pile of straw for the horses hitched there, causing them to panic and rear up with loud whinnies. The straw caught fire, quickly spreading to the wall of the dry barn. A Kentucky Saddler kicked out, causing  _another_ lantern to fall.

As the fire began to grow, Hosea shouted from where he was sprinting towards the barn.

”ARTHUR! COVER ME!”

”ON IT!”

He replied swiftly, firing a shot at the man who was gunning for Hosea as he kicked down the door, rushing inside the burning barn as Arthur struggled to fight off the remaining bounty hunters.


	4. Ablaze (4)

Arthur lowered the smoking barrel as the man hit the ground with a thump, a bullet between his eyes. That was the last one, right?

A shout and a laugh from the flaming barn proved otherwise. Arthur sprinted towards it, slamming his shoulder into the half closed door and aiming his weapon. Hosea was pinned under a bounty hunter, struggling to fend off the knife the man was trying to push into his collarbone.

Furious, he zeroed in on his head as time seemed to slow, flames flickering in his peripheral vision as the barn continued to blaze.

The bullet struck him just above the ear, sending blood and brain matter all over Hosea and the ground. The bounty hunter went slack, giving Hosea the chance to shove him off as Arthur left Deadeye, blinking away dizziness.

Hosea didn’t say a word as he scrambled up, ignoring the mess as he scrambled towards something in the back of the barn-

_Oh._

A figure was bound to a chair, blindfolded and gagged. They were slack, slumped forward as much as the ropes around their chest would allow.

Dutch.

For a moment, Arthur was dumbfounded and frozen in place, 

It was never supposed to be like this. Dutch was supposed to be the strong one. The one who always knew what to do, always had a plan to get _Arthur_ out of whatever mess he’d gotten into.

 _Never_ the other way around.

Arthur was yanked from his thoughts with a call from Hosea.

”Arthur! Help me get him out of this damned barn, quickly!”

He sprinted forward through the smoke, grabbing onto the chair and heaving it up with Hosea, watching Dutch’s head roll to the side.

”Right- is he-“ Hosea quickly cut him off.

”I don’t know, Alright? Help me get him OUTSIDE!”

They both staggered out of the barn, coughing and setting him down a safe distance from the blazing building. Hosea staggered to the side in a coughing fit while Arthur yanked his knife from his belt, quickly getting to work on the bindings. They were tight, cutting into the skin of his wrists, leaving bright red chafe-marks when Arthur cut them away. He made short work of them, and Hosea had to scramble to support the man as he pitched to the side, no longer held upright against the chair.

"God damn it, Dutch, C'mon-"

Hosea was a ball of frantic, nervous energy, very much a far cry from his usual demeanor as he laid him down and quickly removed the blindfold and bloody gag, crimson having soaked into a good portion of it where rivulets of blood streamed from his broken nose, now dried and clotted. Arthur removed his neckerchief and wrapped it around his leg just below the knee. The wound would need to be cleaned, but the primary concern was making sure he was alive. He couldn't stand to sit there and watch Hosea panic, so he put himself to work.

Dutch jerked up with a cry as Arthur removed the knife from his calf, prompting a gasp and murmured encouragements from Hosea.


End file.
